50 ways of killing Cas
by deadone1013
Summary: This time there was no bright white light, no imprint of burned wings, this time no one knew that the angel was dead. Only Dean Winchester, who was frantically searching for a pulse. He felt the body become lifeless under his impatient fingers. *** Warning: Major character death! Sort of. *** Set at season 11, after 11.8 "Just My Imagination" Case!fic. Completed.
1. The Angel Blade

_**Author's note: Hello! I'm not sure where this story will go, but I know I'm going to kill Cas in it. More than once. A lot. So, be warned! It is set in season 11, so SPOILERS! Mercy is town I made up just to serve the purpose of the story, so, if there is some inaccuracies, I'm sorry. Also, I'm Bulgarian, sorry for my English and any stupid thing I am going to write here. Feel free to correct me.**_

* * *

 _ **Important note: If you are reading my story for a first time just keep going and enjoy! For my regular readers, first of all, thank you! Second, there is some changes here. The plot stays the same, just the grammar mistakes are corrected and the writing is better. A huge Thank you! for** AlexHamato **for helping me to improve my English and my writing and for making this story better. So, tell me what you think :)**_

* * *

 ** _10.12.2015 Wednesday_**

The Bunker, Lebanon, Smith County, Kansas

"Hello, you have reached Castiel's phone. He can't answer right now, because he is watching crappy porn or he's on a bender, or both. Please leave a message!"

Dean couldn't help but smile, hearing his own voice on the other side of the line. He was proud with his particular ingenuity each time he encountered the angel's voicemail.

"Hey, Cas. Look, since there's no news from Amara for couple of weeks now, I found us a case. Some strange deaths not too far from here. Sammy's got a nasty flu, so if you wanna help me, I'm leaving early tomorrow morning. I'll text you the coordinates in case you can't reach me 'till then. See ya!"

Dean could actually do it pretty easily himself, but after the fiasco with Rowena's spell, all that Metatron-crap, and endless delving in books for something related to the Darkness, he thought it would be good for Cas to get some distraction. He also needed to go out hunting. It seemed centuries since their job was focused on digging up graves to salt-and-burn bones. Sometimes he missed the Apocalypse.

* * *

 **10.13.2015 Thursday**

 _Mercy, Smith County, Kansas_

Dean smiled to a nice, redhaired waitress as she was topping off their mugs. She smiled back politely and moved on with other customers.

"Really, Cas? Third cup?"

The angel shrugged and sipped his coffee.

"I really like the flavor. I haven't taste this kind of coffee before," he said. "So, tell me about the case."

Since it was so early in the morning and they were dining at the small town's only cafe, there were a lot of people. Dean and Cas chose a table for two in the back, next to the large front window. The hunter took note of the exits and glanced briefly at the visitors. A little later, while he was enjoying a huge portion of pancakes with whipped cream and maple syrup, Castiel had already drunk two cups of a local "famous coffee" that was flavored with cinnamon.

"Okay." Dean cleared his throat and opened the folder left in front of him on the table. "Six deaths in ten days, all in pairs. First, Adam McCarthy and Edward Norton, 28, friends from elementary school. Both worked for the electric company."

He pulled the photos of two men and put it on the table in front of Castiel.

"There's no apparent cause of death, local sheriff found them in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial zone, after the company failed to contact them nearly 24 hours. The pathologist suggests heart failure."

The angel nodded and took another sip of coffee.

"Next," Dean pulled out two photographs and placed it before him, "Emily and Lenore Ellsworth, twins. They came home for the weekend from college and decided to go for a walk to the river. Found there a day later, holding hands. Again, no visible external injuries. Cause of death is presumed heart failure.

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, staring at the faces of two young girls in the photos. Dean pulled out two more shots.

"Latest are Evelyn and Jared Carmichael, mother and son, 52 and 26 years, found in their home after Evelyn's second husband couldn't reach them on the phone all day. Same cause of death."

"I see," Castiel nodded again, "What do you think?"

"I don't know." The hunter shrugged. "Demons kill more… you know, bloody. Maybe a witch? I was thinking that, first of all, we look at the bodies. But the pathologist is absent until tomorrow morning, so it's best to start with the first crime scene."

"The warehouse where they found workers from the power company?"

"Yeah. That's our best option for now."

* * *

 _Abandoned warehouse, "Marvel Leeds Electronics," Mercy's outskirts, Kansas_

"Creepy." Dean shuddered, closing the trunk of the Impala. "If it is a witch, hex bags can protect us. If not," he slipped Ruby's knife into his belt and swung an iron crowbar around to test it, "It's better to be prepared. We'll go carefully and try not to split up."

"I'm not a child, Dean," Catiel said dryly.

"Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes and opened the door to the warehouse.

Dean stepped into the dark room, holding the crowbar cautiously ahead. He could feel Cas' presence behind him, even without have to turn to look at the angel. Despite how pleasing the morning sun was outside, the warehouse was devoid of the sun's warmth. Dirty, tall windows only let in enough sunlight to barely see in front of him. After a few minutes, however, the hunter could sufficiently see around him. He blinked a few times, so that his eyes could adjust to the darkness.

Remains of old machines covered with dust and cobwebs stuck against the walls. There was a large pile of scrap metal on the left side of the entrance, as if to remind the hunter of what had this place had been before it was abandoned.

"Dean." He felt Cas' hand on his shoulder, his voice alarmed. "I sense something."

"What?" Dean asked without turning around.

"I'm not sure." Castiel paused for a moment. "It is... strange, unfamiliar."

"Okay," Dean said, "Keep your radar on."

As he walked forward, Dean was still looking around cautiously. Cas' warning had left a bitter taste in his mouth. It hadn't happened often to encountered something that was unknown to a celestial creature.

Finally they found themselves in a little open space somewhere in the middle of the room. Resigned, Dean lowered the hand that held the crowbar to his side.

"There's nothing here," he said with disappointment, facing the angel.

Castiel stood a few feet away and his face visibly darkened.

"I'm not sure. There is something unfamiliar and dangerous, but I cannot determine it precisely." His lips formed a thin line, his eyebrows gathered thoughtfully. "I have this feeling of imminent danger, but I can't name it."

"Can't you just mojo around the room?" Dean suggested, " Maybe we miss something."

Castiel's eyes glowed in soft blue when he used his Grace.

"I don't sense anyone else, besides us," the angel said, "But all my senses are screaming to get my charge out of here."

Dean squinted at him, "You still consider me as your charge?"

"Of course." Cas sounded a bit surprised.

"I...uh, I didn't know that." The hunter wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

"I realy think we should go," the angel said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "There's nothing here."

"Don't be so sure."

The voice was deep and strangely familiar and came from all directions. The two men immediately took a defensive position, Dean raised the crowbar defensively and Cas summoned his angel blade. Leaning against one another, back-to-back, they tensed and looked around.

The figure emerged from the shadows and stood so that both could see it. It was a tall man in his late thirties, dressed in a suit.

The hunter's eyes widened in surprise. "You're..."

"Dead?" The newcomer finished for Dean, the shadowed face slipped a hint of a smile. "Try again."

"Raphael?" Cas muttered through clenched teeth. "It can't be!"

"Why, Castiel?" The archangel took a few steps and the two men followed his movements with their weapons. "You think you're the only one of Daddy's favorites?

Dean glared at the archangel."You are behind all of this?"

Dean was frantically looking for a way out. Both he and Cas were aware that the archangel could destroy them with a flick of his hand.

"Killing a few people is always the easiest way to get the Winchesters come to you." His gaze swept on Cas, "And as I correctly assumed, their faithful dog will run along."

"What do you want, Raphael?" the angel hissed.

"Isn't it obvious?" The archangel shrugged casually, but his eyes darkened. "You killed me."

"It's me you need." Cas swallowed nervously. "Let Dean go."

The archangel looked at Castiel, amused.

"Faithful to the end, Castiel?" He pulled the angel blade from the sleeve of his jacket. "But you entrust your allegiance on the wrong side."

With a flick of his hand, Raphael threw the hunter aside, hitting nearby wall and falling to the ground with a dull moan. The crowbar slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Cas gritted his teeth and swung forward. The angel blades met in the middle with a metal ring and fiery sparks. The archangel's left fist struck his jaw and filled his mouth with blood. Cas swung again, but his brother escaped the blade and grabbed him by the collar. The archangel dug a knee into his abdomen, leaving Castiel breathless.

Dean sought support in the wall, trying to get up. His vision was unfocused; probably from when he hit his head on the floor. His back ached and he could barely stand on his feet, but his fingers tightened around the handle of the knife and he frantically sought a way to help his friend.

Raphael slowly and methodically was beat Castiel. He had knocked Cas on his knees and pounded his bloody face with the handle of angel blade. The angel's own weapon was lying a few feet away, out of reach.

The archangel yanked Cas on his feet, fingers closed around the neck of his younger brother, face inches from his ear as growled through clenched teeth:

"One, Castiel."

Then his free hand swung and Dean saw in slow motion how the blade sank into his friend's chest. There was no time to react because the archangel threw Castiel's limp body against him and he lost his balance. His head was once again hitting the wall and his eyes flashed sparks. He tightened his hands around the angel to protect him as much as possible from the impact.

The sight of sticking out of Cas angel blade sickened him. Dean could not say exactly how far it was from his heart. His friend was lying with his head on hunter's chest, blue eyes wide open, staring in horror archangel reaching out to him.

"Last words, Castiel?" Raphael growled.

Raphael's fingers curled around the hilt and twisted the angel blade into Cas' chest, cutting the flesh, carving deeper, leaving weeping blue marks on the skin. From angel's lips uttered an unwilling, painful moan.

"No." Dean almost cried, "Please!"

"Dean... I'm sorry." Castiel barely spoke before the blade stuck deep into his heart.

The hunter's cry merged with the burst of bright white light. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as they filled with tears and his hands tightened around the lifeless body. He was praying in mind for all of this to be just a bad dream from which he was going to wake up any moment in his bed, trembling and scared to death, but Cas will be alive, will be fine.

But it wasn't. When, after an endless moment, he forced himself to open his eyes, Raphael was gone. In the warehouse, the silence was unbearable. Hot tears streamed down the face of Dean Winchester, he made no effort either to hide them or even wipe them away. He had just lost his friend. Castiel was dead. Everything happened so quickly, it all seemed so wrong and unreal. The world slowly was disappearing around him, leaving only the body in his arms.

"Cas..." he called in desperation, although it was clear that he would not get an answer. "Please ..."

If at this point anyone was looking from above, if there was someone out there, a silent witness of what had just happened, they would have seen a picture imbued with grief and sorrow. The man sat with his arm around the dead, bloody body, refusing to let him go even in death. From either side of him, burned into the dirty floor, were imprints of a pair of huge black wings.

 ** _Author's note: So, any thoughts?_**


	2. The Angel Bullet

**_Author's note: Hello! I know, killing Cas - not cool. But just give the story a shot, please! Everything is happening for a reason :)_**

 ** _To_** _Tmk13_ _ **: Thank you for reviewing and no, I probably won't kill him in every chapter :)**_

 _ **Thanks, everyone, who following and favoriting :)  
**_

* * *

 **10.13.2015 Thursday (yes, again!)**

 _Mercy, Smith County, Kansas_

"Anything else, sweetie?" the nice redhaired waitress smiled at Cas as she refilled his empty cup with coffee.

"No, thank you."

"You gotta be kidding me!" Dean grinned after the girl turned away and went to serve a table across from them.

"What?" Cas asked.

"She likes you." Dean leaned across the table as if to tell him some secret. "She likes you. I can't believe it!"

Cas shrugged and took another swig of coffee.

"Wow, easy on caffeine." Dean looked at him suspiciously. "Third cup, Cas? Really?"

"I like the flavor. I haven't ..." The angel stopped in mid-sentence and his face took on a thoughtful expression.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I'm sorry," Cas shook his head, " I meant to say that I haven't tasted that kind of coffee before, but apparently I'm wrong. It is not of importance. Tell me about the case."

"Okay." Dean rubbed his tired eyes.

"Are you all right?" Cas squinted, watching his friend carefully.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." Dean opened the folder that was on the table before them, then suddenly stopped and looked at Cas with confusion. "I could have sworn we have done that before."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I have this strange feeling of deja-vu..." The hunter rubbed his eyes again. "Probably nothing. I didn't sleep very well last night. May be I'm just tired." He took two pictures and put them on the table, "Adam McCarthy and Edward Norton ..."

Dean suppressed the strange sensation that crept persistently in his head. It was like something in a remote corner of his mind which he was trying to reach, but didn't know what exactly to look for. While he was telling Castiel about the case, faces of the pictures seemed oddly familiar to him. He thought he had memorized them while was quickly reviewing the file in the car on the way to the cafe, but what also seemed familiar was the very position of the photos on the table, the conceived look on his friend, light smile of the waitress, people in the cafeteria, and the whole situation in general.

Blame it on the lack of sleep. He remembered meaningless distinct parts of the nightmare he dreamed last night, but nothing that could tell him the whole picture.

"What do you think?" The voice of the angel tore him out of his thoughts.

"I don't know. I mean, demons kill..."

"More bloody..." finished Cas, head cocked slightly to the side, as if trying to remember something.

"Yes, that's what I was about to say." Dean shook his head, "Maybe..."

"A witch... " Cas finished again, the thoughtful expression on his face deepening, his lips pressed tightly and eyebrows furrowed darkly.

"Yeah." Dean looked at him in surprise. "You read my mind or something?"

"No." Castiel shook his head absently, his blue eyes were staring somewhere over the hunter's left shoulder, "I just..."

Last words, Castiel?

"This deja-vu you mentioned... I think I experienced it too."

The hunter's face darkened.

"Want to specify?"

"I'm... not sure." Castiel finished his coffee with one big sip. "Probably nothing, as you said."

"Yeah, we've been through a lot quite recently, right?" Dean smiled, slightly forced. "You know what helps? Ganking some witch."

"Good. Where do we start?"

"I thought to first look at the bodies, but the pathologist is out of town until tomorrow, so we will start from the first crime scene."

"The warehouse, where were found the first two victims?"

"Yeah. It's..." Dean beckoned the waitress for the bill.

"Our best option for now," Cas finished for him mechanically.

"Wow, that's getting weird. Cut it out!"

* * *

 _Abandoned warehouse, "Marvel Leeds Electronics," Mercy outskirts, Kansas_

"We go carefully and try not to split up," Dean said over his shoulder.

Cas wanted to note that he was aware of the procedures during the hunt and didn't need to be reminded like a child. He was heavenly creature and could take care of himself, but something told him that mentioning that wouldn't give him any particular benefit. Instead, he followed Dean silently into the building.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a strangely unfamiliar sensation crept down the spine of his vessel and the hair on his neck bristled. He saw Dean blink a couple of times; the human's eyes were adjusting to the dim light. For him it wasn't an issue, his eyesight was much sharper than human's, though not as if he had his full powers.

The warehouse seemed abandoned a long time ago, everything was covered with dust and cobwebs, rusty parts from old machines stuck out from places like bony hands from fresh grave.

 _Last words, Castiel?_

The feeling of imminent danger suddenly gripped him and he froze in the middle of the room. He concentrated and used his Grace in order to look around carefully. Invisible to the human eye, the soft blue light spilled from him, stretching his fingers and touching every hidden corner of the warehouse. His grace slipped over rusty metal, dusty windows, tangled cobwebs in corners, and gently touched the tiny life forms that inhabit it.

But the result was the same. Nothing. Cas frowned. There was no sign of people or any other creatures that posed a threat, but the feeling of danger was screaming at him and it was impossible to ignore it.

For the moment it was best to get his charge out of here as quickly as possible. Part of him was surprised that he still considered Dean his responsibility. But the rest of the angel knew with certainty that regardless the circumstances, he always will be. The man wore his Grace's print on his soul, and such a connection couldn't be easily broken.

"I think we should go," the angel said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Dean sounded almost disappointed and lowered the hand that was holding the rod, ready for battle. "There's nothing here."

"Hi, Squirrel."

Crowley stepped out of the shadows with his hands in the pockets of his black business suit.

"Damn it, Crowley!" Dean cursed. "You scared the crap out of me."

"I'm sorry," the demon replied with his habitual theatrical tone. "Feathers." He nodded toward Cas.

Castiel frowned and didn't answer.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked.

The demon shrugged.

"Nothing special. Casting some spell."

The hunter tensed visibly, shifting the crowbar to his left hand and his right hand twitched in an effort not to immediately grab Ruby's knife from his belt.

"What spell?" he asked casually, but suspicion flickered in his tone.

"Perhaps one that involves human sacrifice?" Cas finished his thought when the demon didn't answer.

"Well, you know me." Crowley shrugged again and made several aimless steps around the room.

Castiel glared at the demon, "Are you behind all this?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "Okay, you got me."

Cas summoned his angel blade and his fingers tightened expectantly around the handle.

"Whatever you had in mind, it's not gonna happen." Dean shook his head. "I'll have to stop you."

"Actually, I am counting on that." The demon pulled his hands from his pockets, holding a gun.

Castiel reacted instinctively and without thinking so that he stood between Dean and Crowley, directly in the path of the bullet.

"I am not interested of killing your boyfriend, kitten." The King said in a tone as if explaining something obvious to a child.

"Then you know that this weapon is useless against me," Cas remarked dryly.

"Yes, about that..."

The demon's finger tightened on the trigger and the sound of the shot echoed unnaturally loud in the room. Castiel tried to prepare for the pain that would follow when the bullet tore the flesh of his vessel. He focused his Grace around the site of the entry to be able to heal as quickly as possible.

But when the bullet went through the vessel and slammed into his true form, leaving weeping blue trace mixed with blood, which bloomed on the white shirt low on his belly. His hand pressed against the wound and his eyes stared at the demon in surprise.

"What...?" His mouth filled with blood as he tried to speak.

"Oh, I forgot to mention." Crowley still stood facing him with the gun. "I melted down an angel blade in some bullets. Clever, isn't it?"

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Dean hissed.

Dean threw the crowbar on the floor and his hands grabbed Castiel, who staggered back and fell to the ground, coughing blood. The angel dragged Dean down with him.

"Take it easy, Cas!"

Dean sat down and lifted Castiel enough so that he could lay the angel's head on his chest. "One hand pressed the wound against his friends stomach. He held Cas' hand in with the other, the grip weakening and warm with fresh blood."

"You see, the spell has one ingredient that is not easily found - the blood of the fallen angel. So I thought that, if by chance, I actually knew one."

"Blood spell with... human sacrifice," Castiel's voice was weaker and more hoarse than usual, "this is a dangerous black magic Crowley."

"Yes, kitten, that's the goal."

"You will not obtain..." Castiel coughed, his body tightened painfully in Dean's hands and he couldn't finished the sentence.

"Your blood?" The demon smiled gently, shaking a small glass bottle filled with a thick red liquid in his free hand. "Little late for that, kitten."

"Cas, talk to me! You'll be okay, right?"

"Yes," another spasm caused him to cough again. "Just... need to get the bullet out..."

Dean's face was flushed with anger.

"I'll rip your heart, you sneaky weasel!" he yelled at the demon. "Whatever you're planning, I'm gonna stop it if it's the last thing I ever do!"

"I suppose you are." The demon looked at him thoughtfully, "In that case, I need to buy myself some time."

Before Dean could ask what he meant, Crowley shot again.

"Two, Castiel." The demon smiled before he disappeared.

* * *

The sound echoed like thunder and in the split second that it took the bullet to reach its target, Dean Winchester's frozen mind had passed a number of impossible images.

 _Last words, Castiel?_

He could swear that for a moment he thought he heard the archangel's voice, Raphael, who had scattered Cas to atoms in Chuck's house. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Also, he remembered, an angel sticking out of Cas' chest, like that time April had killed him. Suddenly, he remembered his dream from the night before, except that now it wasn't like a dream anymore.

 _Don't take Cas into the warehouse. Don't take Cas into the warehouse. Don't take Cas into the warehouse._

He was repeating the mantra in his mind, not sure why or what it meant.

The bullet shattered Castiel's heart and stopped its mad rush into vessel's chest, tearing apart his true form. Dean closed his eyes instinctively when the body burst into bright white light.

Tears flowed under his clenched eyes. There was no anger, only sadness and grief for his lost friend. The world was slowly disappearing around him, leaving only a lifeless body in his arms. He wiped away his tears, but his eyes remained fixed on his fingers, covered with Cas' blood. It sickened him. He choked on sobs, trying to catch his breath.

Castiel stood in the way of a bullet to protect him in the first place. Wasn't that the story of his life, his friends dying in his arms, for him, one by one, until no one was left?

 _Don't take Cas into the warehouse. Don't take Cas into the warehouse. Don't take Cas into the warehouse._

In a remote corner to his mind that seemed to work independently, he repeated the phrase as if in a trance.

Then the time stopped and went back.

 ** _Author's note: Please, tell me what you think for this story, is it worth continue it?_**


	3. It's about the souls

_**Author's note: Here's the new chapter. No one dies here. Well, except the people who are already dead... Thanks,**_ _Tmk13_ _ **,**_ _NeonBlackRoseRevived_ _ **and**_ _KAL_ _ **for your suport.**_ _  
_

* * *

 **10.13.2015 Thursday (and again)**

 _Mercy, Smith County, Kansas_

 _Don't take Cas into the warehouse._

Dean rubbed his tired eyes and tried to focus on the case, but the headache threatened to squeeze his brain through his ears. He hadn't slept well the night before. He was already used to nightmares from Hell, but this was something different. He remembered fragments of a dream that were extremely disturbing, especially the image of his own fingers, sticky with Cas' blood.

"Dean?"

He looked at his hands again, for the tenth time in the last half hour.

"Dean? Are you alright?" The voice startled him, almost as if he had forgotten that the angel was sitting across the table.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the hunter replied weary.

"What do you think?"

"Maybe it's a witch." Dean slid the pictures carefully back into the folder. "I hate witches," he added quietly, more to himself. "I thought we should first look at the bodies, but the pathologist is out of town until tomorrow, so we'll have to start with something else."

"The warehouse, where they found the first two victims?" Cas suggested absentmindedly.

 _Don't take Cas into the warehouse._

The thought popped into his mind, vivid and not quite meaningless. The hunter looked at his hands again and shivered as his skin crawled. He thought he must have caught Sammy's flu, but part of him somehow knew that this was not the cause of the headache and cold. He decided it was better to trust his instincts, no matter how crazy everything seemed.

And speaking of crazy... Most of the faces in the small cafe seemed so familiar that the entire time he was looking around intently, his fingers sought his knife. He felt particularly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, and local 'famous' coffee made him sick. He pushed the cup aside and tried to decide which way to go over the investigation. To find any connection between the victims, if ever there was one. They had to inspect the bodies, to visit the vic's homes to talk to their friends and families.

"The warehouse. Yes..." Then he hesitated for a moment. "No, I have a better idea."

"Anything else, sweetie?" The cute redhaired waitress asked, smiling with her green eyes at Castiel.

"Actually," said Dean. "Yes. Would you please direct us to the clinic?"

* * *

 _"Mercy Grace" Clinic, Mercy, Smith County, Kansas_

"I think you mentioned that the pathologist is out of town."

"Right." Dean shifted the lock pick into the doorknob. There was a click and it opened quietly, creaking slightly. He looked at his friend from below and his face slid into a sly smile. "When has that ever stopped me before?"

The hunter looked around once more and quickly slipped inside, making an impatient gesture with his hand for Cas to follow him.

"I believe this is an illegal act," Cas noted vaguely as the angel followed him down the long, narrow corridor.

"Ya think, Sherlock?" Dean grinned over his shoulder, as he was reading the inscriptions on nearby doors.

He walked to the end of the hallway to the Morgue's door and pressed down the handle. It opened with no problem. The hunter carefully felt around the wall until found the light switch.

"I love small towns," he said.

The room they entered was narrow and the air felt cool. In one corner was a desk stacked with documents and records. Undereath the lone shaded window stood a table and autopsy set. On the wall opposite the desk was positioned a morgue refrigerator with four sections.

Dean was reviewing the records on the desk.

"It seems here are only the last two bodies," he said, "The rest were handed over to relatives. Number two," he opened and pulled the compartment open, "and three. You feel anything strange?"

One body was a dark-haired woman, early fifties and the other one was young man.

"Cas, would you..."

Dean turned to his friend when there was no response. The angel was watching intently at something behind his back, his face darkened and his hand was clutching the angel blade. The hunter turned back for a split second, his fingers tightened around the handle of Ruby's knife.

"I will not harm you."

The voice came from a little girl who was standing next to the woman's body. The cadaver was no more than ten years, with brown wavy hair and dressed in a white dress.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean asked without turning. His eyes remained fixed on the tiny figure, watching for the smallest threatening gesture.

"She's a reaper," Cas replied briefly, then turned to the child, "What do you want?"

"As I said, I will not harm you." The child's voice sounded wrong now that the hunter knew what was against him. "I came here to reap and accompany these two souls to Heaven. This form," she smoothed her dress, "this is Emily, youngest daughter of Evelyn Carmichael, deceased when she was eleven years old. I decided this way will be easier for them."

Dean watched the girl's movements while he was listening her to her intently.

"But when I came here... " she hesitated, as if was searching for the right words, "it's better to show you."

The girl made a gesture to Cas to come over. The two men looked at each other and nodded, and then the angel stepped forward.

"Can you feel the soul of this woman, Castiel?" They exchange worried looks again and the girl smiled, "I know who you are. That's exactly why I manifested myself; I wanted to talk to you."

Cas placed his hesitant hand on the forehead of the dead woman and his face darkened.

"This is not possible." He shook his head. "What happened to her?"

"Her soul was torn apart, piece by piece, slowly and painfully," the reaper said, her face filled with grief. "Until nothing was left. She was absorbed."

"Great, " Dean said. "That's exactly what we need, another soul-eating monster."

"Is it the same with the other one?" Castiel asked.

The girl shook her head sadly and again gestured him to come over. Cas' hand laid for a moment the cold forehead of the man. He withdrew it, almost startled, and his eyes widened.

"How ...?"

"What do you feel Castiel?" she asked, though it was clear that she knew the answer.

The angel didn't answered, only bowed his head.

"Let me tell you," the girl continued, "what is this feeling, which is passing through the skin of your vessel and touching with its soiled fingers your true form. It is dark and sinister; it bear the imprint of Hell's flames and screams of thousands of tormented souls. This is the same thing I felt the first time I touched him."

"Cas?" Dean urged, "What the hell is going on?"

"This soul," Castiel spoke softly after a few seconds, "It is corrupted, twisted, and almost demonic."

"Is he possessed?" The hunter didn't understand.

Castiel shook his head.

"Then what?"

"Dean Winchester," the reaper addressed him, "tell me how you corrupted the souls in Hell."

The man's hand winced around the handle of the knife at the memories that invaded his head.

"Torture. Many violent deaths," he said, his voice trembled faintly. "You mean the same has happened to this man? Within 24 hours? How is it possible?"

"I do not have all the answers," she said. "But I'll tell you what I know. These are not the only cases."

"Yeah, we know that," Dean said. "There were two more pairs within the last ten days."

"Yes," the girl confirmed, "but what you do not know is that there are many similar cases scattered around the country over the past eighteen months. Not detected because they are isolated and no one has so far made the connection. But among the reapers the word is spreading."

"So this thing, or things, however, kills more than a year, kept a low profile and now suddenly decided to crawl out of its hole and attract some attention? There's no point."

"This is all I know," the reaper said, "And I'm as puzzled as you are. Moreover, I came here to accompany two righteous humans in Heaven, and now have to forcibly drag this miserable tormented soul in the Pit."

With these words the girl disappeared.

"She gone?" Dean still looked nervously around.

"Yes." Cas nodded as they put the weapons back.

"Is it true?" He thoughtfully rubbed his neck. "What she said?

"I'm afraid so."

"So one person becomes a demon and the other is torn to pieces?"

"That's not quite accurate," Castiel explained. "To corrupt a soul in such a way, in such a short time..." he sighed wearily, "I don't know, It requires great power. Moreover, very few beings are able to tear and absorb human souls."

"Amara?" Dean asked the question he most feared.

"No," the angel said, "If we can believe the reaper, it has begun before her being released. And the pattern is different."

"I'll check that. Later I'll call Sam to make some..."

Dean couldn't finish the sentence because suddenly the headache intensified to unbearable limits, and he closed his eyes in a painful grimace. The world spun around him and he sought support in desk to hold to his feet steady. His ears were ringing and dull pain throbbed in his temples, making him sick. Under his clenched eyes, suddenly appeared bright but foggy images.

 _Imprint of wings burned on a dirty floor._

 _A demon, with a steaming weapon in his hand._

 _His fingers, sticky with Castiel's blood._

Dean pressed his head in his hands and groaned softly. He heard his name somewhere from afar, the voice was filled with concern and he tried to focus on it and pushed the pain aside.

Then he felt cold fingers on his hot skin and relief that flowed into him like a wave washed away the pain and visions, leaving only a sense of security and calmness.

He blinked slowly and opened his eyes. Dean saw that was sitting on the floor in front of the desk, and Castiel was kneeling beside him. Cas' fingers were still on hunter's forehead and his expression didn't bode no good.

"Dean?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He shook his head to get rid of the awkward touch. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Cas looked at him with narrowed eyes and head slightly tilted sideways. "Something is wrong."

"Will you be specific, or..."

"You fainted," the angel stated obviously.

Well, on the other hand he was right.

Dean struggled on his feet, then again leaned on the smooth wooden surface when the world spun around him. He closed his eyes for a moment to suppress nausea and then took a few uncertain steps.

"Here," he said, "now everything's fine."

"Dean..."

If he got a coin every time he heard his name spoken with insistent long-drawn manner of Castiel, he would be been rich and retired, he thought. However, his friend's concern was somehow touching.

"I'll buy it. What's wrong?"

"Your soul," the angel bowed his head, "is damaged."

"Yeah, tell me something new."

"No, I mean like the victims. " Insistent anxiety in Castiel's voice wiped the smile from Dean's face.

"You mean…" He shook his head. "But how is that possible? We just came here."

"I don't know."

"Okay. If so, there must be a second victim, right?"

Dean was still trying to digest the news and the best way to do that was working. He had to harness his mind into something useful, not to think that after a few hours he would be one of the bodies that will be splayed out on the autopsy table.


	4. I'm no angel

**_Author's note: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Thanks to_** _A. Zap, NeonBlackRoseRevived and Badwolf40_ ** _for their kind reviews :) Thank you, everyone, who reading, following and favoriting. And again, I'm sorry, please don't hate me._**

* * *

"Okay, let me think." Dean flipped all the pictures nervously through his fingers for the fifth time since they got away of the clinic.

He and Castiel were sitting in the car, parked in front of the cafe on the main street for about an hour now. The hunter tried to contact Sam, but he couldn't. Back at the clinic Dean had used their computer to confirm part of reaper's story, but it was enough to prove them that the girl was telling the truth.

Whatever that thing was, he had appeared over a year ago and had killed imperceptibly until a week ago, when it had breached his pattern and had fallen under Winchester's radar.

"There must be some connection between the victims. Two electricians, two college girls, a retired elementary school teacher and a computer programmer. Different gender, different age, but always in pairs..." Dean repeated himself again, as if trying to understand what he was missing.

"Which brings us to the question that if you're the next victim, then who the other person is?" Cas said thoughtfully.

"They knew each other, so..."

"You're thinking about Sam," Cas said his thoughts out loud, "but all of them had been together when they were killed. It doesn't fit."

"Yeah, I got that," the man said, a bit more sharply than he intended. Cas just looked at him sideways and said nothing. "Sorry, I'm a little under pressure here, I have just a few hours to live."

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the front seat beside him.

"Dean, we will figure it out," the angel said softly.

"Yes, I know." He started to examine the pictures again. "Friends since childhood, twins, mother and son... How did it reach them? How will it get me? Who is the second victim?"

"Wait, could you repeat that?"

"What?" Dean didn't understand.

"What you just said."

"Who is..."

"No, the thing about friends and family," the angel said impatiently.

"I didn't say anything about... Oh!" Dean stopped in mid-sentence; suddenly saw through what his friend was trying to tell him.

"Yes," Cas nodded, " this is the common. Friendship. Family. Connection."

"You mean that each couple had a strong bond, that... Oh, damn it!"

"What is it?"

" _Profound bond_ , Cas." Dean rolled his eyes, waiting for the angel to figure it.

Occasionally it was so easy to forget what Castiel actually was, only by looking at his clueless expression. Sometimes Dean was fascinated of various personalities he had noticed in his friend. He could be a fearless warrior, could smite demons, could kill angels and incinerate everything that gets in his way with the entire divine wrath in his clenched fists and at the same time could be naive and confused as a toddler.

"You mean that the second victim... is me?" Castiel's blue eyes seemed even larger, widened by surprise.

"Think about it. No other option."

"You're right, but it means... Once your soul is damaged... so I have to..."

"Turn into a demon," Dean finished.

"But this is impossible. I have no soul to be corrupted. We also dp not fit into the pattern."

"And this should mean something..." Dean flipped through the documents again and pulled out a page. "I think it's time to visit a crime scene."

Don't take Cas into the warehouse.

"We will find more about victims, and perhaps how the creature had reached them."

"Exactly." Dean smiled inwardly; he was a bit proud of his friend. "You're gettin' better."

* * *

 _Carmichael's residence, "River" Str. 1011_

"What do you mean warding?"

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Hell, nothing was going right during this damn day. Finding out right by the start that he was dying...

They had found the house easily. It was supposed to be empty, the police report from the clinic said that the husband was on a business trip and would be back tomorrow morning to take the bodies from the morgue.

Now they stood outside the door, which Dean had managed to unlock without any particular difficulties and he was just thinking that maybe this time will be easier, when Cas said the house was warded against angels.

"It's an Enochian binding spell," the angel replied, his voice trembled a spark of concern.

"So you can't come in?" Dean asked. "Great."

"No, no that kind of warding," Cas explained. "I can go in, but I can't use my Grace."

"So, someone bothered to protect the house against angels, so to deprive them of their mojo while they are inside? I don't like it, Cas."

This case officially couldn't be more weird.

"No." Castiel shook his head. "The defense is against _me_ , Dean. It's my name on the sigils."

Well, you think that it couldn't be work, but what do you know? The universe really, really hated him and now it was much worse. Murphy's law, true to form.

"Damn it. Cas, you know what that means. Whoever killed those people, he knows you." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't we delete it?"

"Not all of it." Cas shook his head again.

"I'm going alone."

"No." Castiel's fingers tightened urgently on his forearm. "This is clearly a trap."

"Yes, meant for you." Dean tried to pull away from the iron grip of the angel. "So you cannot come."

"Dean."

Here it was again, the long-drawn manner Cas said his name when things were not going well.

The hunter shook his head. "Absolutely not happening."

"I'm still a heavenly warrior, Dean. I can handle my angel blade much better than any creature. Do not treat me like a child."

Anger trembled in Cas' tone, his eyes flashed with subtle blue flames.

"Damn it, Cas! All right. If it's a witch, hex bags should protect us. If not, better keep that angelic weapon of yours ready." He tucked the gun into his belt and covered it with his shirt as Ruby's knife was settled comfortably in his hand.

Dean knew that to keep Cas out of the house he would probably have to bind him. But as that currently wasn't an option, he moved away and let him go through the front door.

He wondered if the angel was so stubborn before get him out of Hell, or subsequently was caught up of his own stubbornness. He smirked and followed Cas inside.

Castiel walked slowly and quietly, his hand clutching the angel moment they cross the threshold, the angel frowned.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Just this strange feeling," Cas said with a spark of confusion is his low voice, "It's like part of me is being restrained, hidden in a place where I can't reach it anymore. And the human senses are so restricted and insufficient."

The hunter nodded towards the kitchen and gestured that he would check upstairs. Cas nodded in return.

As Dean crept cautiously from room to room, it gradually became clear that the second floor was clean. It seemed that after the bodies were found only two days ago, no one had entered the house.

"It's clean upstairs." Dean shook his head, coming down. "No signs of struggle, sulfur, hex bags, EMF, nothing."

"Same here. But still, who has warded the house and why?" The angel grimly asked the obvious question.

"That is the question, right?" Dean frowned. " _Any enemies_ , Cas?"

"Actually there are many... " Cas began, but then saw his friend rolled his eyes, "oh, I understand."

"Anyways, I think it's better for us to go, there is nothing here."

At that moment they both heard the sound of approaching footsteps. It was too late. The man that stood against them was pointing a weapon. His hands were visibly shaking. He was a little over fifty, gray-haired, looking tired, with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. And he was pointing at them with _fucking shotgun_!

Dean slowly raised his hands in front of him in a calming gesture, although still clutching the knife. In his head he quickly passed different options for a way out, but he dismissed them one by one, mentally cursed himself that hadn't taken more weapons. If only he could reach his own gun. He felt the cool metal hidden in his waistband, pressed against his back, but too far away since he was in front of the barrel of a shotgun.

"Look, pal, we don't want trouble," Dean spoke cautiously.

"Who are you?" The man's voice trembled with tension. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Your house? You are Stanley Carmichael, Evelyn's husband?" the hunter asked slowly.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Agent Walsh, this is my partner, Agent Williams, we're with the FBI."

The man seemed to hesitate; the barrel of the gun jerked down for a moment, but then again rose steadily, straight at Dean's chest.

"You don't look like feds." The man shook his head. "You... you look like a thieves, and he," he nodded his chin toward Cas, "he looks like a tax accountant."

"Well, we _are_ feds."

The man continued to watch them with suspicion, but seemed a bit calmer.

Then everything happened in a heartbeat. Dean noticed movement in his peripheral vision. Castiel took a step forward so that he was just in front of the barrel of the weapon at the moment the man's finger stiffened convulsively on the trigger. The hunter couldn't say with certainty whose movement was the cause and whose was the effect, because both seemed to happen at the same time.

The shot echoed laud in the high room.

"Three, Castiel. " The words hung in the air.

 _No. No. No._

Castiel took a step back when the bullet tore his chest and he staggered. Didn't cry, didn't made a sound. At first he just stared at the man in disbelief, as startled as if he wasn't quite able to perceive what had happened.

 _Shock_ , Dean thought, his legs alone pushed him forward. His hands tightened around the sagging body of his friend and he placed him carefully on the floor without let go of him.

Cas' hands unwittingly pressed the wound and Dean's fingers as found his, wet and sticky from the warm blood.

"I can't reach... my Grace!" Cas groaned, clearly panicked as if he was forgetting for a moment about the binding spell. The angel was struggling to breathe, the air went in and out his chest with an ugly gurgling sound. Every breath caused him a painful moan and each breath was more difficult than the last.

 _Perforated lung_ , Dean thought. That meant he had only a few minutes. He had to get Cas out of the house.

If he could get him outside the binding's influence, maybe Cas would be able to use his mojo to heal.

"Nobody is going anywhere," the man growled, "Not until you tell me what you've done to my wife and my son."

"Look, man, we wanna help," Dean pleaded. "We'll find out what happened to them, I promise. Just let me take him out. It doesn't need to end like this."

The body in his hands trembled.

"Cas?"

One hand of the hunter remained on the wound, although he knew it was useless. Cas' lungs were filling with fluid, his breathing was weaker and more difficult with every passing second. His other hand was hesitantly laid on the angel's forehead and seemed to offer at least some comfort. The skin was cold under his bloody fingers.

"Dean..." The voice went hoarse, ragged. A trickle of blood flowed from his mouth, "I'm..."

The rest of the words were lost in a wheezing sound of Castiel's last breath.

"No," Dean cried. "No, _please_."

This time there was no bright white light, no imprint of burned wings, this time no one knew that the angel was dead. Only Dean Winchester, who was frantically searching for a pulse. He felt the body become lifeless under his impatient fingers. His whole world was plunged into the grief.

Then the time again stopped its course and things went back to their usual places. Everything was the same, with a slight difference.

Dean Winchester remembered.


	5. What's happening?

_**Author's note: I didn't know I was born at the same date as Jensen Ackles :) And now also little one Isabella Rose Sheppard :) So, happy birthday, all of you, born at March 1! It is a wonderful day for update :)**_

* * *

 **10.13.2015, Thursday (And ... Well,** **you get** **it!)**

 _Mercy, Smith County, Kansas_

When he turned in his chair at the café, Dean remembered almost everything that had happened in the past (at least for him) three days. His head ached like hell and the memories were pretty vague, but he was beginning to grasp the idea.

The day, Thursday, repeated.

The thought made him sick and he pressed his mouth to his hand and put all his will into suppressing spasms in his stomach. He must have been pale as a sheet and his hands were shaking, but at least now knew (as far as was possible in such a situation) what was happening.

The pounding in his head and the constant buzzing sound in his ears were irritating, but one thought had formed too clearly in his blurred mind - Mystery spot.

Now he understood how lucky he was, not remembering the time that he and Sam had spent experienced the same day on that damn place.

 _Sam._

God, what was his brother going through, seeing him die again and again, unable to do anything to stop it.

"Dean?" Castiel's hoarse voice startled him; it felt like he wasn't expecting to see the angel sitting across the table.

He stared absently at his hands.

 _Cas._

 _Damn it, Cas!_

The hunter's look, widened by surprise, moved from his hands (Cas' blood sticking to his trembling fingers) on his friend's worried face.

The angel's head was slightly tilted to one side in an uncomprehending expression and his lips were gathered in a straight line. Castiel's blue eyes looked at him anxiously. Dean didn't remember ever been happier to see him. Well, maybe the moment when he found him in Purgatory, after months of searching.

He suppressed a surprisingly strong desire to stand up and pull him in his arms for a hug. Instead, his fingers dig into angel's forearm through layers of clothes and he smiled at the sense of reality the touch gave him.

"Is everything okay?" Cas asked.

"It's actually pretty far from okay," Dean said. "We need to talk."

* * *

"So I ... " Castiel still looked at him with disbelief after Dean had told him everything he remembered, including the experience as Sam had described it from the Mystery spot.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Three times."

"Well, that must have been unpleasant for you."

"For me?" The hunter almost choked on his coffee. "Cas, you died."

"Yes, but you're the one who remembers."

"Whatever you say." Dean had neither the strength nor the desire to argue. "At least now we have something to start with."

Cas nodded.

"So this creature, whatever it is, is using the strong link between the victims and is killing violently one of them while consuming the other's soul. Then turn back time and repeat. But for what purpose?"

"I only know one goddamn thing, who can warp the time in such way, and that is your asshole brother, Gabriel. But last time I checked him, he was quite dead."

"We can exclude him of the suspects," Castiel said grimly.

Dean cursed himself mentally for not thinking ahead when he offened the archangel. Nevertheless, he was Cas' brother, one of the few who had proved not been such a dick and died to protect them. And if it wasn't for him, they wouldn't know how to send Lucifer back into the Cage. Castiel never said anything, but Dean was sure it hurt him when they lost Gabe.

"Other option is we are dealing with a real trickster," the hunter wondered aloud. "But I'm not sure that these creeping things are strong enough to manipulate time."

"I'm quite sure they are not." Cas bent his head. "But you're wrong, there is another option."

"What?"

"An angel."

"You're kidding." Dean sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes with his hands. "As that Tamiel guy, the Grigori? You said he was the last."

"It is assumed that all were killed."

"Won't you feel it, if it's an angel?"

"Not necessarily. Not if he managed to hide. This requires great strength, but it's possible," Cas said. "But it also explains how he knew he must ward the house in order to kill me as a mortal."

Dean blinked, annoyed by the _indifferent_ tone that the angel used to refer to his own death.

"Is it possible he knows you?" he asked, trying to shake the feeling.

Castiel sipped his coffee and nodded.

"It is very likely, indeed."

This was too much for Dean. The calmness with which the angel took the situation made him angry.

Maybe because he didn't remember or just he was trying to stay calm and this was his damn Angel-of-the-Lord mode. Dean wasn't sure, but as he looked at the impassive expression on his friend's face, he wanted to hit him.

Well, at least dying was certainly not new for both of them.

Dean wondered how many times he had witnessed his friend's death (except the last three, of course).

The first time he left him in Chuck's house to confront the archangel, in order to give him a chance to save Sam; Dean had thought that the angel _had_ balls after all. That was when they discovered that he had been scattered into atoms. For a moment, in rememberence, something in his chest twitched in pain.

Then, when Cas carved the angel banishing sigil on his chest, even though the angel thought that he would fail. When they didn't know whether he is alive, Dean felt guilty that he was ready to surrender to Michael so easy, though everything Cas was sacrificed for him. And for a moment he wanted the angel to sit beside him in the car with his ridiculous hair and clueless expression, staring at him with his head slightly cocked sideways and his big blue puppy dog eyes.

Then again, when Lucifer tore him apart with the snap of his fingers, Dean was grateful that the angel gave him his five minutes with Sammy. That pain had clenched his chest for an endless moment. He had thought that they are all dead.

When he watched helplessly from the shore with how the bloody trench-coated figure was lost in the water, releasing on earth an ancient evil. Nevertheless, he was grieving his friend, he had felt his loss, painfully, and this time threatening to be permanent. And despite everything that Cas had done at this point, he would give anything to go back. Just to have a chance to fix things.

And then Cas had become human and was killed by a reaper. Stabbed with his own blade. In that moment when Dean was kneeling before his lifeless body, when he didn't feel pulse under his fingers, the realization hit him.

He wanted his friend back. Because things couldn't end like that. He had circled all night to find him. He had fought the reaper. He asked for help from the angel that possessed his brother. He had found Cas, but a few seconds too late.

A few seconds that cost him his life. And Dean was tired of losing people. _And this was Cas_. And this was all, as if that in itself was reason enough.

Thinking about all the times when he had lost Cas, or had thought he lost him, which in most cases was the same, Dean Winchester couldn't help but wonder when he would be run out of luck. Cas had a habit of always coming back. But sometime in the future, as considering their lifestyle, there was day that Cas would _not_ come back.

The year of 2014 had come and gone, but Dean remembered the shots from that day. That half-destroyed building in Detroit in the future that never happened. He remembered, too, that he was the one who had sent Cas to his death, as it turned out that in fact he had done several times before.

As in this case, first at the warehouse, then into this house, Cas had stood without hesitation in the path of bullets to protect him.

"I'm sorry, Cas, but I do not share your calmness," his voice came out sharper than he intended. "Why aren't you worried?"

"Of course I am." Castiel raised eyebrows at the serious expression. "The damage on your soul will soon be irreversible, and this is something I cannot fix."

"Damn it, Cas! What part of the _you-fucking-died_ situation didn't you understand?"

"My death is not the problem here, Dean," the angel tried to explain calmly, "It is more important to break the cycle. The creature, an angel or something else, feeds on pieces of your soul. Do you not know how serious the consequences are?"

"Yeah. I saw Amelia, remember?"

Dean regretted his words the instant they came out of his mouth. Although Cas was trying very hard not to show his emotions, when he mentioned the name of Claire's mother, a shadow passed over the angel's face. Cas blamed himself for what happened and he would never forgive himself, Dean realized.

"I'm sorry," the hunter muttered half-heartedly and then changed the subject. "So, if it's an angel, where you think we can find the bastard?"

"He needs to be close to his victims," Cas said slowly, "It could be anyone."

Dean looked nervously around, studying the faces of visitors in the small cafe, as he had been doing the last three days. Then something suddenly popped into his mind.

"Do you think... I mean... when you died, you think Raphael, Crowley and Mr. Carmichael had been an illusion? Could it have been the angel?"

Cas thought for a moment and nodded.

"Yes. What was the expression, his game - his rules? Grigori is almost as strong as an archangel. Moreover, this one feeds on souls, it makes him even stronger. For him it would not be a problem to get into your memories and pull images from there. He can also bend our perceptions."

"Still, I don't understand two things," Dean pondered. "First, why pairs? And why is killing them when he can trap them in illusion forever? Why does he go through so much trouble? And second, what the hell he wants from us?"

"I guess revenge," Cas said carefully "There is every reason to believe that the killer has breached his pattern especially for us. But this could be a good thing."

Dean rubbed his tired eyes. Again.

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"We know where the creature will be the next time I die."

"What?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You suggesting what I think?

Cas nodded.

"No, no." The hunter shook his head. "I'm not gonna use you as a bait!"

"Dean, this is our only chance to stop him. Even more so, I'm not the bait. _We both are_."

Dean frowned. He didn't like the plan. Moreover, they didn't know anything about this creature. Their whole strategy rested on assumptions.

Well, actually he and Sam had staked their lives for less.

"Dean, one more thing..." Castiel continued with uncertainty in his voice.

"What?"

"If things go wrong..." The angel looked at him with his big blue eyes, "just let him kill me and try to remember as much as possible."

Dean felt like he was about to throw up.


	6. What's going on?

**_Author's notes:I'm so sorry for the delay! I wanted to correct previous chapters, before posting the new one. Again, no plot changes. And again, a huge Thank you! to_** _AlexHamato_ ** _for being my wonderful, helpful beta reader! Her story_** _'Wash Away'_ ** _was my inspiration to build better Dean - Cas dynamics here. Thank you,_** _dances-with-cacti_ ** _and_** _AlexHamato_ ** _for recent reviews and support!  
_**

 ** _So, enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated :)_**

* * *

Occasionally, hunter's gaze strayed from the road and slid on the motionless figure of his friend in the front seat.

Cas was leaning his forehead on the window and was looking outside. His face, as always, had a thick mask of indifference. It was impossible to tell what the angel was thinking.

Too bad, because at that moment Dean was very keen to understand what was happening inside Castiel's head.

Castiel had not said a word most of the time. Not that he was ever particularly chatty, but in this situation his silence only worried Dean even more.

After discussing everything they knew so far in the small café, both decided that they needed to go back in the warehouse. Carmichael's house was warded, and it was better for them if Cas was able to use his Grace.

The hunter cleared his throat and muttered, "Um, Cas?"

The angel didn't answer, only turned slightly and looked him with a silent question in his blue eyes.

"Are you sure?" Dean continued, "I mean ... you don't have to do this. We can figure something out."

"No," Cas said with flat tone, "this is our best option."

The angel made it clear that the conversation was over. He turned his head again and stared at the quickly passing silhouettes, while the Impala was moving along the road out of town.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it. The rest of the trip was plunged into silence. Inside the hunter's mind, however, the thoughts were quite loud.

He had a frustrating feeling that when the things go wrong this time, that he will have to watch Cas die again, unable to do anything.

* * *

Dean closed the trunk. The words came out of his mouth before he could consider them properly. "Well, we go carefully and try not to split up."

Seconds later he remembered that already had said them. In the same way, in front of the same building, and the consequences weren't good at all. Once again, he wondered if they were doing the right thing.

Cas was right. This creature, angel or whatever it was, it was changing the rules as it wanted. Dean strongly doubted that they would manage to surprise it. He had Ruby's knife, his gun was hidden in the waistband of his jeans, and Castiel's angel blade. But despite that he felt unprepared.

"Do you think this will work?" Dean couldn't help but asking.

"I believe so," Cas said. "There's only two things that can detain an angel - enochian binding spell and burning holy oil."

"I wish we had enough time for the spell," the hunter said grimly.

"Everything will be alright, Dean." Castiel's voice was flat and calm and Dean could not help but wondered at what point his angel had learned to lie so damn well.

Nearly an hour earlier Dean had made circles of holy oil in several places on the floor of the warehouse. Cas had waited outside the entrance. Both hadn't noticed anything suspicious then.

Dean hoped they still had the advantage of the element of surprise. But his experience told him that they shouldn't rely too much on it.

"Okay," the hunter rubbed his neck, "Let's go."

Dean crossed the threshold of the dusty warehouse. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to dim light. But the hunter hadn't made even a few steps when he realized that he didn't hear the angel behind him anymore.

"Dean," Cas called his charge with a low voice.

The man stopped, surprised, and looked around. On the high windows of the building, bright red symbols were lit from an unknown magic.

The hunter turned towards Cas and his face darkened when he saw worry in the angel's eyes.

"Cas? What's this?"

"Binding spell." Castiel nodded nervously towards the windows. "But I've never seen it before. It appears that it reacted to my Grace when I came in."

"Damn it!" Dean pulled his gun out of his belt. "Okay, let's get out."

"Dean, " Cas looked at him with overt concern, "I can't."

"Cut it out!" the hunter replied, "We'll go back in town and we'll think of something else. Come on."

Dean grabbed the sleeve of his friend's coat and pulled him ahead. Cas took a few steps, but he stopped at the door.

"Dean," the angel said urgently.

"Damn it, Cas!" The man cut him off, anger flickered in his voice. "No time to argue. Just listen to me, okay."

Dean stood on the other side of the open door, one hand still clutching Castiel's forearm through several layers of clothing.

"I can't," the angel explained, _"The spell does not allow me to leave the building."_

The eyes of the hunter widened when he realized what Castiel was trying to tell him.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed, unsure what to do in this situation.

Then the figure appeared out of thin air in front of his eyes, a few steps behind Cas. He wore a face that still inhabited Dean's nightmares.

The man spoke with a hissing accent that still startled the hunter in his dreams. "Boys," the demon smirked, "Find the place okay?"

"Alistair," the hunter murmured.

Although Dean was sure that the image was fake, part of him wanted to run away. His green eyes, filled with terror, met Castiel's blue gaze.

"Go now," the angel said silently and turned around, releasing himself of Dean's trembling fingers that gripped his hand.

 _Just let him kill me and remember as much as possible._

The words crept into his mind, but he didn't consider it. Not even for a moment. In Dean Winchester's life there was one rule that never changed. Do not abandon your family. So there was no way he would leave Cas behind.

"Yeah, right!" The hunter gritted his teeth, standing next to his friend to face the demon. The door slammed shut behind them. The sound echoed loud in the high room.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," the newcomer continued, "I'm sooo disappointed."

"You can save us the show," the hunter replied boldly, "I know what you are."

"Dean, you are insulting me," Alistair said, "I came back for you."

Dean had to admit it, the copy was pretty good. He was sure that the creature had pulled the image straight from one of his nightmares.

"Yeah, I bet that," the hunter said.

Cas stood beside him and watched the demon. The angel's head was slightly tilted sideways and he looked at Alistair with wide wondering eyes. As if he was trying to see beyond the appearance of the creature in order to understand what they're dealing with. But Dean assumed the spell which has been bound Castiel's Grace had left him with purely human senses, which the angel probably had found insufficient and limited.

"My star pupil." The creature was talking, amusement flicked in his voice, "It pained me when you left. And speaking of that," it turned his head to Cas and squinted, "You don't look well, kiddo."

Dean tried to swallow the lump that had stuck in his throat. In Alistair's words, besides the obvious threat, there was something else. Something the hunter refused to think about right now. Or ever.

Even without the bindings, Castiel wasn't in his best shape. His Grace was damaged when Metatron used it to cast the angels out of Heaven. Besides, Cas was still suffering from the effects of Rowena's spell.

Castiel had gone through a lot of crap lately. Dean kept telling himself that he needed to talk to the angel about all of this. But he put it off because he wasn't sure what to say. Besides, no chick-flick moments, right?

But now, facing the possibility of losing Cas again, he wished he had the balls to make this conversation earlier.

Again, Dean wondered whether to take Cas on a hunt, without knowing what they were dealing with, was the smartest decision.

"Bite me!" Castiel hissed to the demon, earning Dean's proud smirk.

"If you insist," Alistair grinned, "But enough foreplay."

With a flick of his wrist he threw Dean away. The hunter landed heavily on a pile of scrap on the floor to the left of the entrance. His head hit the ground painfully and he almost lost consciousness. The man tasted blood in his mouth. A piece of rusty metal tore his right shoulder and his numb fingers dropped the weapon.

However, Dean managed to stand up enough to see how Cas' back was being nailed to the door. His blurred mind barely registered the glowing red symbol painted on the entrance. Alistair's hand was stretched out towards the angel with the palm forward. Demon's fingers curled into a fist. Cas choked in painful moan and reached for his throat. His blue eyes were wide open and he desperately tried to catch his breath.

Dean hardly managed to get to his feet.

"You stupid son of a bitch," the hunter snapped, pulling the angel blade out of his jacket. "Leave him alone!"

The creature turned his head toward him, visibly amused. He loosened his grip on Cas. The angel coughed painfully, but still couldn't move. Alistar's outstretched arm was holding him in place.

"I'm sorry," the demon said mockingly, "This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you, right? I'm about to kill your angel."

"I said," Dean took a threatening step forward, " _Leave. Him. Alone._ "

"Or what, Dean?" the demon shook his head.

"I told you to ditch the theater." The hunter took another step, "I spent forty years with Allistair. And you're a bad copy."

The expression of the demon changed as if he was considering Dean's words.

"Well," he shrugged casually, "You'll die anyways."

In the next moment, a woman stood where Allistair once did, replacing him. She was slightly shorter than Dean, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of a local café. The hunter recognized her; it was that cute redhead waitress.

"That's better," she smiled charmingly. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Dean. I bet that you could reconsider the things that you thought about me this morning," she raised her eyebrows playfully.

"Who are you?" Cas managed to say. His voice was hoarse from invisible fingers still clutching his throat.

"Castiel." Her gaze went back to the angel and she shook her head, "You really don't look well, brother."

"What... are you?" The angel asked, in his voice quivered confusion.

"Oh, very soon you will understand," the woman said, "But don't hurry. We have all the time in the world."

"So you're an angel?" Dean asked.

"I was," the woman nodded, "But now I'm so much more."

"Tell me your name," Cas said softly.

Dean frowned. If this thing was an angel, Castiel would undoubtedly try to save his heavenly brother, to bring him back on the right path. He couldn't understand this loyalty that Cas still felt for his siblings. Despite everything they caused him.

But on the other hand Castiel had devastated Heaven when he was drugged up from the souls from Purgatory. Dean knew that the deathtoll would haunt his friend for the rest of the angel's life.

The waitress glared at Castiel and said, "Nathaniel. _My name is Nathaniel._ "


	7. The sins of the wayward son

**_Author's notes: I'm sorry for the delay. The real life is crazy right now. And the latest episode just... Well, you know. As always, thanks to my beta reader,_ **_AlexHamato_ _ **. She is the best!**_

* * *

Castiel felt the painful pressure of the binding spell on his Grace. A dull ache was drumming in his temples. His vision was blurry.

But it could also be caused by the fact that his vessel's brain did not received sufficient oxygen. Nathaniel's invisible fingers grabbed his throat and prevented him from breathing.

Moreover, his heavenly brother used his own Grace to keep Castiel firmly nailed to the door, restricting his movements.

"So, female vessel, hah?" Dean smirked, "I have to say that you have a nice ass for an asshole."

"Angels don't have a gender, you idiot, " the woman said slowly.

"You can still _bite me_ , though," the hunter hissed.

Castiel hardly managed to look at Dean. The hunter was standing a few feet from the red-haired woman. His whole body was tense in a threatening posture and his hand was clutching the angel blade. From the wound on his right shoulder, blood was running down his fingers, tinting the blade red and dripping to the floor.

But Dean was not paying attention to it. His green eyes were fanatic, and sought Cas' blue gaze. The angel almost imperceptibly shook his head. Dean made a low, disapproving sound but stayed still.

"Do you remember me, Castiel?" Nathaniel continued, ignoring human's words and weakening his grip slightly, allowing to Castiel to answer.

On vessel's face slid a satisfied smile, apparently Nathaniel was caught his brother's deterrent gesture.

"Nathaniel, the Angel of Purification, Divinity and Fire," Cas said softly, although his voice was more hoarse than usual, "one of the twelve angels of vengeance. You worked for Naomi."

"Yes. And that's all you know about me, right?" In the woman's voice crept almost tangible offended notes, "I expected more from you."

Castiel was straining all his senses to be able to see beyond the physical body of the vessel. He was watching the other angel intensely, squinting from the pain that this effort cost him.

But whether because of the spell or weakened state of his damaged Grace, the only thing he could see was how the creature's true form was drifting outside the boundaries of the host's body in pale light.

But unlike the usual for an angel soft blue tending to white, the light was bright red, _angry_ , unstable. Crimson streamers stretched from the woman's hand and dug its fingers into Castiel's throat. It stung where the light was touching his true form through the skin of his vessel.

This touch felt tainted and corrupt.

"What have you done?" The words ripped from Cas' lips.

Nathaniel smiled darkly.

"We'll get there. But everything in its time. Now the question is what you have done."

Castiel looked at him puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"You really don't remember me, do you?" A mixture of curiosity and amazement spread over the woman's expression. "Naomi scraped your brain too damn well."

Cas didn't answer. Everything about the time spent with Naomi after Purgatory was strange and inconsistent inside his head.

"Let me tell you," his brother continued, "You know who I am, or rather know who I was before the Winchesters ripped apart our Father's plan and you took away from me my promised Paradise."

"You know, Castiel, when you returned to Heaven after God bring you back, many thought that _you_ were chosen to lead us. But I knew that Raphael was the right choice. I knew that you were weak, too attached to the paltry humans. Therefore, I chose to follow Raphael."

Cas' heart was pounding in his chest. He knew where the story of his heavenly brother was going. And he could say that Dean had guessed too. The hunter's face was visibly darkened. The man stood still, glancing cautiously at the small female figure.

"When you came, _drunk_ with all those souls and began the massacre, I hid," Nathaniel continued with low voice, heavy with anger. "I could hear the terrified screams of my brothers, their cries for help. I heard the names you ripped from them by torture, _all_ the names of Raphael's followers."

Cas bowed his head.

Nathaniel turned toward Dean, "Can you imagine the _devastation_ that your angel brought to my home?" she asked. "Had he told you what he did to his own kin?"

Cas tried to lift his gaze but failed to come to grips with himself. He was afraid to meet hunter's green eyes. He couldn't stand all the disappointment and disgust he expected to see in there. His peripheral vision registered movement when Nathaniel turned back to him.

The woman's words were filled with poison.

"When Naomi pulled you out of Purgatory, I _begged_ her to kill you. But she had other plans for you. 'Have faith, Nathaniel,' she told me, 'I can fix him. I can use him to fix Heaven.' I didn't believe her."

She smiled sadistically, "And then she _made_ you kill Dean Winchester thousands of times. One for each life lost during the civil war."

Cas made painful moan in the back of his throat.

"Oh, it's pity you don't remember, Castiel. The first few hundred times you even tried to fight. You tried to save him. You _mourned_ for Dean even as you stabbed him in the heart."

Scenes from Lucifer's crypt went through Castiel's blurred consciousness. Dean's bloody face, the fear in the human's eyes. The ease with which his vessel was inflicting the hits, as if coasting downhill. The movements were almost memorized, repeated thousands of times to complete perfection.

He instinctively straightened up to see the reaction of his friend. The angel expected to meet fear and disgust, but saw instead only sadness and sympathy in hunter's green eyes. And somehow _that_ hurt even more.

Because Castiel deserved to suffer, he deserved to pay for his sins. His brethren's wrath was justified and Castiel was made peace with his fate. But the angel couldn't bare the thought that his charge will suffer because of him. If only he could use his Grace to get Dean away from his vengeful heavenly brother, then Castiel could die.

"But Naomi underestimated you, Castiel. She thought she could break you. She thought she could break what _connection_ you have with him," she nodded toward Dean, "But we _all_ were wrong about you. Naomi paid with her life for this."

"Is that the famous villain monologue?" Dean growled, "Save it unless you want us to die of boredom."

Cas gave him a quick pleading look, telling him to stay back. He wished the hunter would listen his silent plea. Although the angel was aware that this would _not_ happen.

"Please, brother," began Cas, but the invisible fingers gripped his throat and his words were lost in agonizing groan.

"You're not my brother, Castiel," the the angel inside the woman's body growled with a part of the his true voice. The words echoed painfully, vibrating deep in Castiel's bones. "You are _pity_ semblance of an angel. You look more like those rats that you protect rather than a heavenly warrior."

Nathaniel's eyes were burning with angry red flames,"You took everything from me; you destroyed my home, cast out me and my family of Heaven. Because of you we are endangered species. Many died during the Fall. I was lucky, I survived. But I was badly wounded. "

Cas was fighting with all his being against the dizziness caused by the lack of oxygen. The flesh beneath the grip on his throat was sore and swollen and it bore bruises in the form of fingers. Although Cas was not utterly without Grace, yet he couldn't do anything.

"I dragged myself to some cemetery where I met Maggie. Nice young redhead bartender who had just lost her fiancé," Nathaniel kept talking. "She said 'Yes' almost immediately and became my vessel. She was so consumed with grief that she just wanted it all to end. And her soul was shining in red, I had only to reach out and get all of this power."

"Good for you," Dean growled, "But you forgot to mention the side effects."

"Yes," she smiled mysteriously, "This is another story. Several months after the Fall the reapers realized what I was doing. I had to conclude a small deal with the King so they would leave me alone. You see, for every soul I take he also gets one."

"Crowley." Dean clenched his teeth, "I'm gonna kill that sneaky weasel!"

"I do not think you'll live long enough." Nathaniel replied with mock musing. "You see, as far as I'm concerned, you're to blame for everything that happened, Dean. You're the one who _corrupted_ Castiel. From the moment he touched you, he was lost."

"Why not just kill me then? Why continue to the fourth day with this crazy game of cat and mouse?"

"Four ..." the woman looked at him blankly, "Wait, you think that you have trapped in the loop _four_ days?" Her face brightened with understanding, "Of course, because that's _all_ you remember."

"What do you mean?" Dean's face paled.

Nathaniel grinned, " _Forty-nine_ days, Dean. And I killed Castiel in _every_ single one of them. I killed him in forty-nine _different_ ways. Forty-nine times your angel died in your hands. Forty-nine times I ripped a piece of your soul."

"You're lying," Castiel rasped.

No, no. It could not be true. It was too much. This meant that Dean's soul was far beyond repairing.

Cas winced at the thought. His chest was filled with guilt, which prevented him from catch his breath even more from the fingers that gripped his throat.

"I'm afraid not, Castiel," the other angel shook his head. "Revenge is sweeter when you look the enemy in the eye while life goes out of him. So I wanted to do it myself. I wanted to kill you with my own hands."

Cas struggled with the nausea. The words of the woman that passed through his mind had lost their meaning. Cas could only think of saving Dean.

"But the first time I killed you, the first time you died in Dean Winchester's bloody hands, the realization hit me. His soul radiated grief and power as I had never seen before. Then I remembered what they said about you back in Heaven. They said that to pull him from Hell that you had to fix him with your Grace."

"Cas...?"

The angel understood the uncertain question that his charge put in his name and sighed.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Nathaniel shook his head with a twisted smile, "You see, Dean, Hell leaves his mark on you forever. But if you think that nightmares are the worst, you're wrong. Your soul has been torn a thousand times. When Castiel got you out from Hell, you were a wreck. He put your soul together with pieces of his own Grace. Then he took your hell, as he later did with Sam's."

The woman stared with undisguised satisfaction at the reaction written on the hunter's face. Dean stood peering into Cas with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"Of course, the memories were a lot less and not as terrifying as those from year spent in the cage with Lucifer. And Castiel was purebred angel at the time, even weakened after the battle for your _miserable_ soul. But is rumored that the darkness remained inside him."

Forty-nine days. The words echoed in Castiel's head. He tried to ignore the pain that the touch the red light caused him, so he could think properly.

"Nathaniel," he pleaded to his brother, "Do what ever you want with me, but please, let Dean go."

Cas knew that his pleading was in vain, but he had _somehow_ to gain time. The best way to do that was to make the other angel to continue to talk until Castiel could come up with something.

"Are you kidding?" the woman grinned, "you two are a goldmine. The others last no more than a week. But this man's soul is bonded with your Grace. He bears your mark. There is something like an open line between you two. Even now I can feel its energy. His soul will withstand me for _months_ , empowered by your Grace, Castiel." She shrugged, "Besides I _really_ like killing you."

* * *

 _ **A few words for the chapter: Nathaniel exists and he is the angel of Divinity and Heavenly fire, one of the twelfth angels of vengeance. And in the show he really worked for Naomi. You can check that :)**_  
 _ **The idea for Cas repairing Dean's soul with his Grace, came from a picture in the net and a story I read a long time ago. It was about a parallel reality, where Dean never met Cas. Please, if you know it, tell me. I want to give credit to the author and add it to my favourite list.**_

* * *

 _ **Yey! The story is "If I never knew you" by A. Zap! Thanks, Guest Z!**_


	8. Let's go home

_**Author's notes: Hello! If there are still any readers out there who remember this story, this is the end of it. And probably the end of my writing attempts. It was fun! You are awesome! Thank to all of you!**_

 _ **Special hugs for**_ _AlexHamato_ _ **! Without her this story probably wouldn't exist...**_

* * *

Castiel made a low stifled sound, struggling to breathe. Dean's mind worked frantically. With his peripheral vision he saw his gun that had fell to the floor at the moment Nathaniel threw him against that wall. He placed carefully the angel blade at his feet and leaned over to grab his weapon.

"Hey, asshole!" the hunter rasped. The taste of blood in his mouth made his voice hoarse, "I said let him go."

It wasn't a particularly smart move, but hey, it worked. Nathaniel turned to him, completely abandoned her victim. Cas slid helplessly down the door and sat on the ground, coughing.

"Seriously, Dean?" The woman smiled, "I am a god. Your funny human toys cannot harm me."

"I think I'll push my luck a bit more." The man shrugged and pulled the trigger. The bullet whistled inches from red-haired woman's face.

"Is it worth the effort, Dean?" Nathaniel took a step closer to him with a broad smirk. "For him," she nodded toward Castiel, who was no longer even moving. "You don't know half of what he had done. If I tell you how much blood is smeared on his hands, how many innocent lives..."

"I don't care!" Dean snapped angrily, "I don't give a rat's ass about your motives. You're a monster."

"And he is the same," she replied softly, "Rachel, Balthazar, Samandriel, Naomi, Hannah... They all trusted him, Dean. And all of them paid with their lives for that trust."

"Balthazar?" Dean nearly choked on the word, "You're lying ..."

"Oh." Nathaniel tilted her head in mildly surprised gesture, "You don't know? Balthazar died by the hand of your friend, stabbed in the back with an angel blade. Because he helped _you_."

"Even so," Dean gritted his teeth, "You're not the one to judge."

"But ..." The angel was standing inches from the barrel of his gun, "Within minutes you'll find yourself back at that table in the coffee shop, I'll serve you coffee and you'll have no memory of what happened here."

With a flick of her hand Nathaniel threw Dean back on his ass on the floor.

"Time for a change of plans, bitch!" Dean hissed in pain when his injured shoulder hit the ground, hard enough for him to see stars.

Despite the pain, with a measured movement ( _which he was considering through the past several minutes, just waiting for the right moment,_ ) he rolled over and emptied the magazine of his weapon in the high windows. The glass rang and pieces rained down on the floor, breaking the bindings as well.

"I know a thing or two about enochian magic." Dean grinned up to the angry angel, "Alter a sigil ... even the slightest ... and you change the whole spell. I figured this would do the job."

"You fool!" Nathaniel hissed, "This doesn't change anything. You will only prolong your agony."

The rogue angel's threatening form was looming over Dean, when a trembling hand grabbed the female figure by the shoulder and spun her around. Nathaniel was so confident in her victory that she had completely forgotten about Castiel. She had no time to react before the angel blade slid across her throat with precision, leaving a red trail of blood mixed with grace.

Dean needed just a second to grasp what his friend was about to do.

"Cas, no!" The man shouted, trying to sit up. "Don't…"

Cas' head was thrown back. He was barely standing upright. The angry, red, smoke-like substance left Nathaniel's dying vessel. With one deep inhale the foreign grace invaded Castiel's body. The angel fell on his knees. "Eyes!" He snarled at Dean, gasping for air. "Dean, _now_!"

The hunter instinctively covered his eyes at the moment the room burst in blood red and a powerful shock wave slammed him face-down back on the floor.

* * *

Dean's ears kept ringing long after the storm died down and faded. With a groan, he sat up, looking around, his limbs still feeling heavy. The warehouse was in ruins. The roof was nearly missing and the bright midday sun made him wince. Bits of glass crunched under his boots. He stood up carefully, checking his body for injuries. Surprisingly, not even a scratch. He rolled his injured shoulder. Nothing. The only thing reminiscent of bygone fight were his headache and fatigue. _Well, okay. Maybe also the fact that the damn warehouse had turned into fucking battlefield_.

"Cas?" His voice came out weak and hoarse as he called for his friend. But the angel was nowhere to be seen. "Damn it! Cas!" Dean called again.

A strange noise made him look up just in time to see one of the thick beams of the roof collapsing upon him. But he had no time to cover or to try and jump away. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw how the beam hung in the air, about three feet above his head.

"Damn it!" Dean stumbled out through the nearest hole in the wall that was large enough for him to move through. He heard the beam crashing into the spot where he stood a moment ago.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean cursed, coughing dust and leaning over the Impala's trunk for support. "Show yourself!"

"Dean."

Castiel ( _or something very much like him, Dean remarked mentally_ ), stood a few feet away and watched him patiently. His hair was slightly mussed, no trace of dark circles under his eyes or the stubble which previously were proofs of his weakened state. His clothes were also flawless, no bloodstains or ripped parts. The angel looked like just taken out of the dry cleaning, Dean mused. The thought made him nauseous.

"Hey, buddy ..." The hunter began with hesitation; his fingers instinctively sought the lock of Baby's trunk, in case he had to grab a weapon. This only increased the nausea.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Dean," the angel said calmly.

"Yeah, uh ... 'course you won't ... " Dean swallowed hard and pulled back his hand from the lock. His whole body tensed, ready for fight.

"I do not understand ..." Castiel narrowed his eyes, "I just saved your life. I am still me. And _I am_ your friend."

"Yes, Cas. I, uh .." Dean almost choked on his words for a second time this day, "Thank you, buddy. Now ... Let's just ... You don't need that kind of juice anymore, right?"

"You mean Nathaniel's grace?" The angel frowned. "Yes, I do. I need to repair your soul. This is not something I can do for a day. It requires time."

"We'll find another way." Dean's voice came out dangerously close to pleading.

"Dean ... " Pain crept over Castiel's face, "there's no other way. If I don't do this, you will turn into something far worse than just a demon. You were a knight of Hell once. I can't let that happen again."

Well, Cas sounded quite like himself after all, the man thought. "Look, I just don't like the thought of your psycho brother's mojo being inside you, you know?"

"I feel good. "Castiel reassured him with a small nod, eyes looking at Dean, cold and calm. "Actually I feel better that I have felt in a long time."

Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly felt dry. In that case, there wasn't much room for making decisions. He had to take Cas home to Sam and the entire arsenal of the Men of Letters, hoping that the angel won't suddenly snap and start chasing them down the corridors with an ax. Not that he would need a weapon anyway. With such a power he could tear them apart with a single thought.

Dean looked at his friend sideways. The feeling of déjà-vu crept into his mind. What if Cas had returned to his dick-mode from years ago? The man chased that thought with a shake of his head. But there was something so damn familiar in angel's ridiculous head tilt, ruffled hair and narrowed eyes. Even his tie was loosened just like the day Dean met him for the first time.

"So, you want to go through hell to fix my miserable soul ... " Dean forced a smile, but it never reached his eyes. "Sounds familiar. You need to stop doing that, buddy."

The angel didn't answer. He just kept staring at him. The man shifted uncomfortably and bit his bottom lip, feeling almost naked under such intense stare.

"Great..." Dean cleared his throat and walked to the other side of Baby to climb into the front seat. His hands were shaking a little while he took the key and started the engine. "Hey, you coming or what... Fuck!" The rest of his words were lost in the shock when Cas suddenly appeared in the passenger seat. "Wow! Seriously, Cas? Should we do the talk about using the doors again?"

"I apologize," the angel said. The man snorted to that.

From where Dean was sitting, it seemed that the corners of Castiel's lips twitched in response.

"Yeah, right." The elder Winchester pressed his lips in a thin line and drove back to the main road in silence.

* * *

Castiel's eyes were wandering outside the side window, while Baby was roaring softly down the road back to the Bunker. He could sense Dean's tension, feeling the man's eyes digging a hole in the back of his neck. Couple of times Dean opened his mouth to say something, but then apparently decided against it and kept driving without a word, knuckles white from squeezing the steering wheel.

Truth to be told, Castiel had his concerns. He had forgotten how it felt to have someone else's grace inside him. The fact itself was bad enough. Additionally, it wasn't a pure grace. It was tainted and corrupt. It was red angry, fighting and burning through his own, causing constant drumming in the back of his mind.

But it was strong. A necessary tool. Useful. Castiel mused if he could go and test its limits later. _His_ limits. His wings were all healed for sure. They felt different though. Everything felt different. There were constant red circles just out of the corner of his eyes. Nathaniel's grace allowed him to see the world again. In a ways he hadn't seen it in a long time.

He could easily take them back to the Bunker in a blink of an eye. But there was something strangely comforting about driving back. In Dean's presence.

Castiel also wanted to give Dean some time to adjust.

The man snorted again, irritated as the car jumped because of a bump on the road. "Sonofabitch!" he cursed under his breath, body tensed and hands still gripping the steering wheel like a lifebelt. Castiel could barely suppress the urge to reach out to Dean's mind. His fingers dig into the seat while the foreign grace was bubbling inside his chest.

Yes, controlling it might be a bit more difficult than he thought. But if this needed to be the price to be paid for Dean's soul, he was ready to pay it.

END


End file.
